


Half the battle

by kameo_chan



Series: The Ballad of Umino Iruka: Teacher [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of Umino Iruka - Story #4</p><p>The Third has a discussion with Iruka about what it means to truly dedicate oneself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half the battle

They are sitting on the front porch of the Sarutobi house one day when the Third looks at him from behind a haze of pipe-smoke and reaches out to ruffle his hair. Iruka is sixteen now; a Chuunin, and the gesture feels a bit dated and out of place. But he doesn't try to duck the wrinkled old hand that rests lightly on his head and slightly pushes his forehead protector over his eyes.

"Iruka," the Third rumbles and Iruka looks at him attentively. He has been on personal terms with the Third now for more than four years, and knows when the old man wants to discuss something serious with him.

"Do you love this village?" He's taken aback at that, but before he can answer that of course, he is willing to protect the village at any cost, the Third waves his words away with the stem of his pipe. "I did not mean whether or not you would die for it. I meant do you love the village, and all the people contained therein?"

And the words that he was so ready to utter a moment ago die on his tongue. Iruka thinks about Konoha, about the sheer size and scale and the number of people who inhabit it. How many of them does he actually know? Twenty, thirty? And of those, are there any besides the man beside him and his immediate family whom he can say he truly cares for?

"Ah," the Third says shrewdly. "I thought so." He takes another puff from the pipe before setting it down and bracing himself on his knees to stand up. Iruka is quick to help and offers a supporting arm, but the Third just smiles at him and shakes his head. "I am not nearly that old yet, my boy. Come, walk with me."

The Third leads him through the garden he has gotten so used to visiting during the past three years, and Iruka follows, silent and curious. It isn't long before they come to the koi pond, and the Third stops and turns to Iruka. "Look at the water and tell me what you see," he says. For a moment, Iruka wonders if the Third has lost his mind. But he complies nonetheless and crouches down, grasps the grassy bank to lean out over the water's edge.

"The koi are getting fat," he replies and the Third gives a surprised chuckle.

"Are they now? Well, I suppose I'll have to stop feeding them the leftover melon bread. But on the surface, Iruka. What do you see?" the Third asks again.

And this time Iruka understands. "My reflection," he says and stands up, dusts his hands on his flak jacket. "What about it, sir?"

"Yes, yes," the Third murmurs and smiles warmly at him. "Your reflection, good. Do you know, Iruka, that your parents gave their lives for this village because they loved everyone in it? Especially you?"

Iruka feels confused and slightly hurt. His parents' death is a wound he still hasn't let heal properly, and for the Third to bring them up so casually feels both wrong and deceitful. He wants to say something, anything, but there is a lump in his throat that won't seem to budge. "Don't you see Iruka?" the Third asks, and places a reassuring hand on his back. He bends forward slightly, takes Iruka with him until both their reflections are visible.

"To love the village, you first have to love yourself. You were their greatest accomplishment, their most-loved treasure. The first step to love is forgiveness, Iruka. If your are angry that they left you, forgive them. If you are angry that you let them go, forgive yourself. If you are angry that they died for the village, look at the villagers and think how much they loved this village to be willing to give up their most important possession to protect the innocents that walk Konoha's streets."

Iruka stares hard at his reflection and blinks rapidly at tears that don't quite form. "I don't know how," he whispers. And somehow, just acknowledging that weakness is enough to make the dam break. He curls his hands into fists and presses an arm to his eyes. Tears are a costly luxury in the world of ninja, he knows, but the Third pulls him close anyway and lets him cry much like he'd done four years ago.

But the Iruka of then had cried loud angry tears of loneliness and grief. Now, Iruka cries with silent vehemence, allows all of the rage and frustration, the self-hatred and pent up guilt of the past couple of years to drain away. They stand like that for a good half hour before Iruka composes himself enough to wipe the snot off his face. The Third gives him another of those patented smiles of his and simply tells him that it'll be double laundry duty tomorrow before excusing himself to go fetch his pipe.

Iruka knows it's really just an excuse to give him time to clean himself up and think things through. So he rinses his face with a handful of clear pond water and watches the ripples the motion makes on the surface, distorting his reflection. The first step is forgiveness, he thinks and turns to follow the Third back to the house.


End file.
